


All My Sleeves Are Stained Red

by Before_i_sleep



Series: Nobody Said It Was Easy [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Cemetery, Ed pays his respects to Hughes, Family, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Hughes may not be my fav character ever but he is like objectively the best person in the show, Kind of AU bc Ed has known Hughes since he joined the military, Maes Hughes is a good friend, Memories, Reflection, fathers, he's perfect, just look at him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Before_i_sleep/pseuds/Before_i_sleep
Summary: Ed pays his respects, reflects upon his relationship with Hughes over the years, and tells him something important.





	All My Sleeves Are Stained Red

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently in Brotherhood Ed & Al didn't meet Hughes until the first episode, but I just,, completely forgot that until I was doing research for this pic. i've just always been under the impression that they've known each other for years? Idk. And I don't really believe that Ed went three years working under Roy Mustang and never met his friendly & very conspicuous bff who definitely paid surprise visits to Eastern Command when he got the chance. So yeah, Ed has known Hughes since he was 12 (but after Elicia was born)

The state of the sky was melancholy, the sky just dark enough for one to wonder if it was going to rain, which Ed thought suited the situation.

Ed sat on the ground carefully, crossing his legs beneath him. He was holding his folded up red coat in his hands, and didn’t intend to put it on even if it started raining. Instead he set it down, looking at the stone in front of him.

_Maes S. Hughes, the headstone read, 20 Jan, 1885 - 3 June, 1914. Brig Gen. Loving father, husband, and friend._

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit before now, but better late than never, right?” he said, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet of the cemetery. He felt a little stupid talking to a grave - he knew Hughes wasn’t here, but he had things to say, and Hughes deserved to be told. This was the next best thing. “Mustang, the bastard, didn’t tell me what happened till after the funeral, then there was the whole mess with the Promised Day. Since then, I’ve been helping Al recover. Oh yeah, Al got his body back. He’s okay now. God, I know you’d be _ecstatic_ to hear that if you were really here. You’d insist I take a picture with him immediately, a proper family photo.”

He debated whether to mention that Al had been in pretty bad shape at first. His muscles had atrophied so much, the doctors were worried there might be some permanent damage. They now knew he would make a full recovery eventually, but that had been a nerve-wracking thought.

He had brought a rose - apparently that was what you were supposed to do when visiting a friend’s grave, and he thought Hughes would appreciate it if he were alive. The irony of the thought sat heavily in Ed’s mind.

As he sat in front of the grave of the first friend he’d had in the military, Ed didn’t feel bitter or angry at the unfairness of it all, as he'd half-expected to. He had felt all those things already. He had grieved. He had come about as close to accepting what happened as he ever would.

But that didn’t - and probably never would - stop the claw of regret, of grief, at the thought of all the time that Hughes should’ve had. He should’ve seen Al get his body back, seen Elicia grow up and graduate high school and college and get married. Hell, he probably would’ve even been excited about her kindergarten “graduation,” as ridiculous as the concept was. Ed let a breathy chuckle escape his throat at the memory of Hughes’ overwhelming enthusiasm regarding every aspect of Elicia’s childhood.

That brought to mind another memory, one he hadn’t thought about in a while: how Ed had become friends with Hughes in the first place.

The trace of a smile that had found its way onto his face slipped away. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he muttered, “How you can have such different reactions to meeting someone than you do to losing them. I mean, I hated you at first. God, I was an idiot.” _How could anyone hate you?_ he didn’t say. Because even when Hughes was dead and gone, there were some things Ed couldn’t admit in front of him, and one of those things was that Hughes was, beyond a doubt, the best man he’d ever known.

~~~

Immediately after meeting Ed and Al, Hughes had begun regaling them with tales and photos of his family. Ed had seen him gush about his daughter, had seen all the pictures of baby Elicia, had seen what an attentive, adoring, loving father he was, and he hated it. He hated seeing how much Hughes loved his daughter, hated being reminded of how much less Hohenheim loved him. Those memories hadn’t bothered him in years, and he hated that just seeing a healthy, happy family could drag them back up.

And he hated even more the times that Hughes tried to act fatherly to _Ed_. Al didn’t seem to mind it, relished it even, and Ed couldn’t begrudge him that. But Ed wasn’t looking a father, and he refused to let this nauseatingly sentimental man force his way into the position. He let his resentment build up for months, until it finally came to a head the first time he was injured on an assignment in Central City.

He’d woken up in the hospital, a blurry figure hovering over him nervously. He blinked slowly as his vision cleared to reveal not Al, as he’d expected, but Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. He knew his expression dampened visibly when he recognized the man, but he didn’t care. He didn’t think he could be blamed for being disappointed when he expected his brother and got Hughes instead.

“How do you feel?” Hughes asked immediately, either not noticing or not caring about Ed’s displeasure, “Are you in pain? Does your head hurt? Can you feel your legs?”

“My back wasn’t injured, why would that even be a concern?” Ed snapped. “Right, right,” Hughes smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m just worried is all. How are you feeling?”

Ed scowled. He felt fine. Whether it was because he was fine or because of the painkillers he could feel in his system, he neither knew nor cared.

“Where’s Al?” he demanded in lieu of an answer.

“I told him to go get some fresh air, take in the sights of the city,” the older man said with a shrug, “It’s not everyday you get to see the capital of Amestris. Promised him I’d keep an eye on you.”

Ed felt an ugly wave of -  _something_  well up at the reply. He didn’t _like_ Hughes. He knew Al did, and he knew it wasn’t his place to dictate who his little brother could and couldn’t befriend - not after what he’d done to him. But that didn’t stop him from wishing this man - this _outsider_ would stay out of their lives. They had a pattern, a rhythm that worked for them and they didn’t need some intruder messing it up.

“Well, I’m awake now, so there’s no need,” Ed decided shortly, “You can go, and I’ll check myself out.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Hughes interrupted, a bit of alarm sleeping into his voice, “You’re not strong enough yet to get up and go right back to walking around and getting in fights like nothing ever happened. You could’ve died if that knife went an inch farther. You’re lucky no internal organs or arteries are damaged, but there’s no reason to tempt fate.”

Edward knew - he _knew_ what Hughes was saying. He had not recovered enough from being stabbed in the side to be up and about. He knew, logically, that Hughes meant no offense by his concern. But the comment - _you’re not strong enough_ \- still brought a sharp sneer to Ed’s face and a glare to his eyes.

“I didn’t ask for your advice,” he snarled.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed (and yeah, okay, maybe his side throbbed a little, but he would survive) and stood. Instantly, his head swam, and he had to put his arm out to steady himself.

He felt Hughes’ hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him down. “Slow _down_ , Ed,” he insisted firmly, “You’re gonna tear your side open again.” He sounded so damn _concerned_ , and it pissed Ed off even more.

“The hell do you care?” he snapped, but he didn’t get up again just yet. He just needed a minute to catch his breath and get himself together, then he could go.

He wished they hadn’t given him this damn painkiller, whatever it was. He could deal with pain, but there were few things worse than not being in control of his faculties. It led to situations like _this_.

“Well, I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Ed thought maybe he could hear an undercurrent of something else in his voice, but he couldn’t identify the change. Not that he cared anyway.

“That’s my business.”

“That’s not gonna stop me from worrying about you.”

“No reason for you to do that.” _No reason for you to care,_  he thought. And it was as if a switch had flipped and all his anger had drained out of him like water. Suddenly, he wasn’t as angry as he was tired. He didn’t want to deal with Hughes today. He didn’t have the energy to hate him. He just wanted to be with his brother.

“Ed-“

“Hughes,” he interrupted, closing his eyes, “I don’t… I don’t want to talk to you.” For a precious moment, Hughes was quiet ( _miracles do happen,_ Ed thought wryly), and if Ed’s eyes had been open, he would’ve seen the contemplative look on his face. And then, of course, the moment passed and he said something else.

“You usually don’t,” he observed, and his voice was so much more serious than Ed was used to that he finally looked at the man. “I have to wonder why.”

“It’s the fact that you have to wonder,” he responded with a scoff. Wasn’t Hughes supposed to be the adult here?

“Why don’t you let me in on it then?” he prodded, “I’ve got my suspicions, but it’s always better coming from the source.”

Ed snorted derisively. That was such a _detective_ answer. He sometimes forgot that Hughes was in Investigations. He must not be very good at his job though, seeing as how they were having this conversation.

_May as well just say it. Maybe he'll actually listen and leave me alone._

“You’re not my dad, Hughes,” he said flatly, “Al may be fine with you pretending like we’re family or something, but I’m not. I’m looking for the Philosopher’s Stone, not a father.” He may have that last part with more bite than he’d meant to, but it was true. The sooner Hughes got that through his head, the sooner they would all be more comfortable.

Hughes’ face was unreadable and there was another long beat of silence. Then, “Ed, I’m going to say something way out of line, and I’m not sorry because it has to be said.”

_Or maybe he’ll continue on his previous course. That works too._

“Oh, this’ll be fun,” Ed muttered.

Hughes continued as if he hadn’t heard spoken. “You’re twelve years old. You and Al have been through more than anyone your age should, but that doesn’t make you adults. You’re children, and children need to have adults in their lives who they know care about them. Can you tell me how many adults would give a damn if you died, simply because they cared about _you,_ not what you could do for them?”

In reality, there were a lot. Every member of Mustang's team, the bastard colonel himself included, cared about Ed and Al.

But Ed hadn’t _known_ that then; no, he’d thought that the only ones who cared about them were people he hadn’t seen in months or years. And if Hughes had told him, he wouldn’t have believed him. Hughes knew that too, so he took every opportunity he got to make sure that Ed knew that _Hughes_ cared.

When Ed didn’t respond, he continued, “I can tell you there’s at least one, and that’s me. I’m not your dad, and if you don’t want that, then neither do I. But I _care_ , and nothing you do is going to change that, even if you hate me. So you don’t have to like me, but you might as well accept that I’m not going anywhere. That's a promise.”

Ed stared at him. For once, he was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say to that? As it turned out, he didn’t have to say anything, because after that little speech Hughes excused himself to go retrieve Al, presumably to give him time to process his declaration.

Ed remembered being unsure how to act around Hughes after that. He remembered avoiding Hughes even more, because while he hated adults trying to parent him, he hated not understanding things even more. And he didn’t understand Hughes at all. Hughes had no reason to care about him, yet he promised that he did. He promised that he would stick around and be a part of his life, simply because he _cared._

He remembered finally figuring it out the first time he saw Hughes with Mustang and Hawkeye outside of work. He remembered seeing him give a wad of money to a homeless man, and seeing the looks on his two closest friends’ faces, and feeling the moment the realization hit him, the moment he _understood_. Hughes was a good man who cared about everyone, but that didn’t mean his care wasn’t genuine.

Hughes wasn’t his father, and he didn’t want him to be. But maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a man like Hughes for a friend.

~~~

“You were always a good friend to me,” he murmured, eyes on the dull gray stone, “The first I made after leaving Resembool. It was good to have somebody in the military who I always knew had my back. Right up to the end…”

The last time Ed had seen Hughes was after the Fifth Laboratory. Ed had been hospitalized for a week. Hughes was a busy man, but he had found time to drop by to check on him every day he was in there. He’d brought a pack of cards and he and Ed played Klaberjass (Ed would insist till his dying day that he only lost because he was distracted by his then-missing arm). He talked about Elicia and Gracia, of course, and also Mustang and the team (albeit with less… _gusto)._ It was nice, and Ed found himself in the odd position of actually enjoying a hospital stay.

Then Ed went to Rush Valley, and everything went to hell. Hughes stuck his nose in the wrong place, pissed off the wrong people, found out too much.

“And now we’re here,” he finished with a sigh.

He looked down at the red coat on the ground beside him. He picked it up, feeling the bright material with his ungloved hand, worn from years of use.

“You always were the only one who liked this coat,” Ed remarked, feeling a smile tug at his lips again, “Aside from me, of course. Everybody else thought it just made me an easy target. Tch. No sense of _style.”_

The coat’s stylishness wasn’t why Hughes encouraged him to wear it, he knew. He had overheard Hughes talking to Mustang in his office about it once, a couple months after he joined.

~~~

“That damn coat is atrocious,” Mustang grumbled. “It’s gonna get him shot.”

“At least the red’ll hide the bloodstains,” Hughes joked.

Mustang snorted. “I suppose that’s for the best, seeing as how I doubt he even knows how to do laundry.”

“Roy,” Hughes said, and his voice was different, heavier, “I just… I don’t want to see a boy his age in a military uniform. It’s… wrong.”

“Hughes, please,” Mustang responded, sounding suddenly tired, “Just… not now.”

“Fine,” Hughes said tightly, and they moved onto another topic and Ed stopped eavesdropping.

~~~

Ed would forget about that conversation until much later, after Hughes had died. He still didn't remember why he'd even been eavesdropping in the first place. But when Lieutenant Hawkeye told him about the atrocities she and the others committed in Ishval, she said something that brought it to mind again.

“That’s why Hughes was opposed to you becoming a State Alchemist. He was so afraid that there would be a repeat of Ishval, and you would be forced to use your gifts for genocide. He saw first-hand what that did to the Colonel.”

When he looked at Hawkeye’s eyes, darkened by the nightmare she was reliving, he wondered if Hughes had been the only one with that fear.

“It was one of the worst, and only, fights he and the Colonel have ever had," she continued, "They never really came to an agreement; they just forgave each other and moved on, and eventually Hughes had to accept that you were here to stay.”

Ed didn’t really know what to say to that, and that one of the least disturbing things he had learned in that conversation.

~~~

Now, he pulled his watch from his pocket, looking at the Amestrian dragon engraved on it. He flipped it open to see the words scored onto the inside.  _Don’t forget / 3 Oct. 10._  It was pathetic, having to keep a physical reminder of his greatest mistake on his person at all times - as if his _two metal limbs_ weren’t reminder enough - because he was afraid he might actually let himself forget otherwise.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he promised the scratched metal. “And I’m not going to. But I’ve got half my limbs to keep reminding me, so I’m gonna have to use you for something else.”

He pressed his hands together, then placed them on the watch, transmuting the thin silver. The surface was now smooth save a few words that looked engraved, rather than scratched on with a knife. _I have changed, haven’t I?_ he thought. It was such a small thing, but he wouldn’t have cared what the words looked like a few years ago. But he wanted to honor Hughes, and a slightly more professional-looking watch was an acceptable sacrifice.

_Remember_  
_3 June, 1914_

This was why he had come here today. When he closed the watch, it felt just a little heavier in his hand than it had before. He wasn’t sure if that was the transmutation or his imagination.

He finally looked back at Hughes’ grave. “I came here to tell you something. It won’t do you any good to hear, ‘cause you’re dead, but you deserve to be one of the first to know regardless. I already told Al and Winry, but you're the first soldier to hear. You remember when you told me about Mustang’s ambitions? How he’s going to become Fuhrer, and he’s going to change Amestris. He’s going to fix what’s broken in this country, and there is a _lot_ of broken. You said that you helped him by working under him and pushing him to the top. Mustang said the same thing when he told me himself. He said that you were so good at your job that you could’ve kept climbing the ranks easily, but you decided to never go any higher than him.”

He took a breath. He knew he had to get all his words out now, or he would never be able to say them.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. After Al for his body back, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be _living_ for. But I do now. During our search, I was so focused on Al that everything else became second priority. Even _saving the world_ was just an obstacle that I had to get through so I could get back to my mission and keep looking. I’m not gonna do that again. I have a goal, and I’ll never stop working towards it, but I’m not gonna forget to live my life in the meantime."

“I promise you, Hughes,” he said, his voice hard with determination, “Mustang _will_ become Fuhrer. I’ll make sure of it. For Amestris, and for you.” His piece said, Ed pocketed his watch - _I will remember_ \- and stood. When he left the cemetery, he left the red rose at the base of Hughes’ headstone. Once he finally got around to getting an apartment in Central, the coat would go in the back of his closet, a reminder of an old dream long since achieved.

For now, he had a king to visit. He only had two months left out of the twelve Grumman had given him, and he had made his decision.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought. Hope you enjoyed it


End file.
